Chapter 6
Captured Promises Broken Dreams 捕らえられた約束、壊れた夢
Bridget
“This motherfucker, I swear,” I mutter, jerking the chain that has me secured to the dining room chair.
“I’ll be that my vicious little wife,” he says dryly, sweeping into the room to take the chair opposite me. “ As long as you know you are done fucking trying me.”
His jaw flexes as he picks up his utensils and begins to eat. His gaze is steady on me as he methodically eats his food. The aroma wafts around us, cloaking the room in delicious scents.
My tummy clenches and rumbles as I watch him.
The lower region of my pelvis tightens as I watch the way his mouth covers his utensils.
No wooden chopsticks like so many in the US use.
I learned once I got here that they are also made from stainless steel, enameled bamboo.Wealthy scions like my husband use intricately carved ones out of various materials.
These are silver, inlaid with golden filigree.
“Ah, I see you’ve still not learned from our last altercation.” His gaze lasers on me.
“Never,” I quip, though trying to stab him again with his own chopsticks was not the thing on top of my mind. No, it was those luscious lips and what they do to me. What they’d do again if I allowed him to touch me again.
“You’re becoming too predictable, little one. You’re at risk of becoming boring.” He tsks as the setting of his first course is replaced by the second.
“I can show you just how interesting I can be if you stop being a coward and untie me. How’s your shoulder, by the way?” I smirk, trying not to cringe when I think of all the blood that came from me stabbing him the first time we had dinner a few weeks prior.
“Good as new.” Lifting and flexing his injured arm like I didn’t bury two chopsticks in the area, he adds, “How’s your bottom?” A slow smile pulls across his beautifully cruel face, making my breath catch for a second.
“Fine.” I say through clenched teeth.
“Ahh, I bet. Your pussy?” It’s no longer the false concern of his earlier question. His voice dips to an almost guttural level.
Looking anywhere but at him, I don’t give him the satisfaction of answering. And I do my best to staunch the flood of memory — him fucking me in his blood after I stabbed him. How he jerked out the sharp utensils, making me lick them, then took me ruthlessly on this very table.
“I asked you a question, Bridget?” His harsh words cut through my reverie.
“Fine.” Not daring to look at him, I mumble, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing what his retribution did to me.
Silence prevails as he continues to eat his scrumptious food. My tummy growling drowns out all thought. This part of the punishment has been consistent. I have to wait to eat, and if he’s not here because he’s away working in the city or meeting at his family’s estate, then I have to wait.
My punishment is as draconian as one who was raised in both the Samurai and Yakuza tradition, can only think of to execute.
“You will only be nourished by my hand.” Little did I know all that would entail.
“Arigat?, My compliments to the chef,” he nods to the servant, who beams in response to his praise. “Please bring your mistress’s food.”
“Hai, Sensai Takeda.” The young man says, bowing as he leaves.
“Come, my vicious one.” Pushing his chair back, he makes room for me.
Knowing the consequences, knowing what I’m inviting, I shake my head.
“Fuck you.” Giving him a saccharine smile, I push back my seat, ignoring the violent protest of my tummy.
“I’d like to return to my room.” I say over the insistence of my tummy.
The satisfaction of watching his jaw tighten and flex is almost enough to quell the hunger.
Takashi has been gone all day. I refused breakfast this morning.
He informed me that he wouldn’t be home until very late, and I refused to eat.
Then I had to wait. I didn’t care. He’s keeping me prisoner somewhere deep in the Aokigahara Forest. He must think that holding me in a supposedly haunted forest is going to stop me from escaping him.
He is going to be severely disappointed.
He won’t break me. I’ll be the one bringing him to his knees. He says my fight bores him, but acquiescing would bore him sooner. Nah. I know him well enough to push the right buttons at the right time to trigger the right response.
My heart trips a little when his eyes harden hearing my words. This is what he decreed.
“I have business —”
He stops at my shrug. He has to leave and I won’t be eating, so he’s stuck. Struggling to stop myself from cackling, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from folding over into peals of laughter.
“Have a safe trip.” Keeping my face as neutral as I can, I bow, then turn to the awaiting servant.
Following the young woman who has been my constant companion, I ignore the howls of my belly.
A few hours later…
The door to my room slides open, and Yuna slips in.
At first, I think she’s come to slip me a treat, like she sometimes does when she can.
Instead, she’s shaking her head, so I will know not to speak.
The others are definitely off for my husband.
But Yuna comes from our previous residence.
Takashi only brought her because he knows I trust her.
He thinks that because her family has worked for his since the age of the samurai.
She is only loyal to him. He’s be surprised how many of his family’s female staff love us so much.
Yumi and I have our secret — one she helped to procure when I arrived and found my birth control pills gone.
They are the reason the estates run so smoothly, and his mother, whose principles are just as modern as mine, has encouraged them to reign.
“Lord Takeda requests your presence in his chambers.” Her words and expression remain neutral, but I can sense her awareness of his intentions and the likelihood that I won’t approve.
“Arigat?.” I rise from my sitting area, placing the book about magic, tea, ancient Chinese traditions, and star-crossed lovers that has completely captivated me aside. I bow and follow her out of the room.
“What on earth is this?” I can’t contain my curiosity, blurting out the question when I lay eyes on Takashi’s arrangement.
Pillows are arrayed on the floor in front of the projector screen. Then there is a wide ottoman with a tray of food and drinks on it. Then there is popcorn, which he knows I love along with champagne — my favorite accompaniment. There is a bottle of Hibiki with a highball beside it.
“Come, let’s watch something.” He watches me take it all in.
The pang I feel at the memories of the nights before the one I ran from him after the Christmas celebration eats at me.
It was so rare he ever had time off due to the demands of Takeda Industries that when he finally had time for a night in, he treated those moments with me as something he treasured. Like he treasured me.
“Um,” I take a quick look over my shoulder just in time to see the doors to his room slide close — no escape.
Turning back, I see his expression is cloaked with impassivity.
“O-okay.” It’s not like I have a choice, I think as I trudge over to him. But then why am I so unreasonably elated? I should not be this excited about spending time with him.
Precious time alone with the man who had me so enthralled I nearly forgot myself. Almost forgave him for turning my life upside down just so his unhinged brother could retaliate against my friend for leaving him.
I fought him then, and I will again tomorrow. This is not me bending to his will. It’s him finding a way to please me. I try to use this reasoning. Yet, even as I do, it rings false. My tummy growls and I have to resist the urge to cover it in embarrassment.
He wants to feed me. Get me healthy enough to have his baby. I know this. He’s said as much. This one evening won’t give him what he wants. I can have this. It won’t betray my goals or principles. I will be free of him soon. For now, it’s enough that he’s not making eat from his hand.
He’s seated on the floor. There is room beside him, but he moves his legs to make room for me to sit between his legs. I move on silent feet to the space he’s offered.
“Here, you find something,” he murmurs behind me once I’ve nestled with his powerful chest against my back.
I shiver even though I barely feel his breath against the wisps of hair along my crown.
He towers above me so, he must have been leaning down when he spoke for me to feel the gentle brush of breath against my skin.
I take the offered remote and scroll through the app. Finding an interesting K-Drama about a CEO and the wife he believes is mute.
He’s warm behind me.His chest hard and firm, inviting me to rest there. My mini hunger strike crumbles as the smell of the popcorn lures me to pick up the bowl. I start munching, focused on the interaction that resembles my marriage in a way, except I can speak, or at least not pretending I can’t.
After an episode which, like most K-Dramas, leaves more questions that can only be answered in the next episode.
Feeling the cool press of the glass in my hand, I take the champagne. The bubbles tickling my nose as I take a sip, then another. I keep munching while watching intricate dance between the heroine and the hero, who’s completely underestimated his clever wife.
“She’s clever in a diabolical way,” Takashi murmurs above me.
“And he’s mean like you,” I quip, leaning up, not realizing I’d been resting on his broad chest.
“Hai, vicious one. That I am,” he muses with amusement behind me but says nothing else as we watch the drama.
My head feels full of cotton when I wake up . I still, freezing in place. My nose is buried in silk and down. Inhaling, I smell the unique scent of my husband with a little hint of the whiskey he imbibed.
I’m in his bed — alone. I do a mental check and an inventory of my body, hoping I didn’t overdo it with the champagne and have sex with him.
Feeling none of the twinges in places that would let me know if we took things too far, I sit up. My hair is a mess.
There are no spare bonnets in his room, and I didn’t bring anything, not knowing what would take place when I got here, but sleeping with my husband was not on my bingo card, even if I wasn’t boycotting his kidnapping and breeding plans.
Feeling pressure low in my tummy, I hurry to his ensuite.
“Wow.” Staring in awe at the way the bathroom opens up to the forest, I look at the marvelous view.
Going over to the area. I look into the beautiful expanse of foliage and just beyond the boundary.
There is a Japanese-style tub just before the forest with a waterfall shower so close it blends seamlessly into the scene.
Shaking my head at him doing too much, I quickly find the water closet in its own enclosed alcove.
Going over to the sink, I notice he’s made room for my toothbrush and various products.
Hmm. Not sure what that means. I have no intention of sharing a bathroom or a bed with him.
That doesn’t stop me from using the unopened products or brushing my teeth.
Padding back into the room, I’m not surprised the attendants have taken the time I was busy with my ablutions to tidy up and make the bed.
There is a tray of food in the ottoman with coffee, my preferred drink, along with an American-style breakfast. My tummy immediately makes its preference known.
Obeying my body’s command, I fold my legs beneath me as the custom here dictates, looking at the delicious offering. Biscuits, sausage, eggs, and a bowl of fresh fruit.
There is a note:
My little vicious one, I feel a twinge of pain in my shoulder as I write this, but it is nothing compared to seeing you starve yourself to spite me.
I’ve decided to relent to give you this round. I know there is nothing you won’t do, even hurt yourself, to spite me. This has been my undoing — hearing your tummy growling when you do not take sustenance. It cannot be allowed.
My advice to you is to eat your fill. Enjoy your reprieve. Once I return, I shall have my retribution for your obstinacy. I seed round one to you. Your reckoning awaits.
R
“We’ll see, sensei.” Smiling, I shake out my napkin placing it in my lap. “Yummy,” I hum around the delicious eggs, then spear the sausage so I can devour my breakfast.